Après moi, le déluge
by DeepDownSlytherin
Summary: Five years after the war, Andromeda has found a new normal, and thinks she and Teddy have moved on, until a new rising threat sends her back into the dark, pureblood world of her childhood without the things that once grounded her.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi y'all. Long time no see, right? I return, and I return with a new story. I've been working on mostly original fiction for years now, not sure why I got the HP fanfic bug again, but I guess you never forget your first (fanfic) love, so here I am._

_Note: For those of you who read "A Keen Observer" (and I assume that is most of you, because why else would you have me favorited, right?) this is **not** a sequel to that, and it will be very very different. I have no desire to rewrite the same story. This is not a romance, it's more suspense (though there may be some romance-y elements) and it is post-war, so Andromeda is very much an adult (and everything happened per canon, so she is widowed and raising Teddy.) If you're looking for teenage romance, this won't be your cup of tea, and I won't be offended if you don't read._

_My life is in extreme upheaval for now, so I cannot guarantee how fast updates will come, but I do know where I am going, so they will come eventually. This chapter is longish, just to set the stage._

_Mmkay, that's it._

_Except p.s._ _I do want to thank those who have continued to leave nice reviews on AKO even years later…they still do make me smile._

**Chapter 1- The Potter Wedding**

"Now, do you remember what you have to do?"

Teddy drew himself up, proud of the task he'd been given.

"Stand still, and don't talk, and don't change my hair, and don't make faces," he recited solemnly.

"And?" I prompted.

"Um…oh yeah! Don't drop the rings!"

"Sounds like you're ready," I said, smoothing down the hair that stuck up despite the best efforts of a wet comb. "And you look very handsome."

"Gran! Stop!" He protested.

Before I could apologize for insulting his six-year-old dignity, Gabrielle Delacour swept in and Teddy gave me a beseeching look, to not do anything further to embarrass him in front of her. Since she had arrived from France a few weeks before, the signs of Teddy's first crush were hard to miss. I couldn't fault his taste, at nearly nineteen she was undeniably gorgeous.

Everyone in the Weasley family's universe had been recruited to help out in preparing for the wedding, but Gabrielle's unflappable competence in the face of Molly's frenzied cleaning and cooking and napkin-folding had been a godsend for everyone else, and earned her the position of chief-wedding-planning-assistant.

"Almost time, Teddy," she said. Her English was flawless, thanks to her time spent with her sister and Bill. "Oh, don't you look 'andsome."

Apparently it was allowed for her to say it, he turned deep red and mumbled what might have been "thanks" at this shoes.

He hesitated only a moment as we followed her out. "You'll be watching, right Gran?"

"Of course, I'll be right there up front. You better go make sure Harry is ready, hadn't you?"

It was a small wedding, or rather, small considering the happy couple were the Boy Who Lived and the first witch born to the Weasley family in generations. Harry and Ginny had said they didn't want a large wedding that would turn into some sort of Ministry production, but rather wanted to be married in the orchard on the Weasley property, like the rest of Molly and Arthur's children. They held firm on that, as well as the condition that there be absolutely no press at the wedding, but beyond that they let Molly plan to her heart's content.

A large marquee had been set up in the orchard, and I slipped in through the side, and took my seat, next to Bill and Fleur Weasley. Bill was bouncing four-month-old Dominique, trying to keep her from fussing, while Fleur watched the back of the tent anxiously, waiting to see their four-year-old Victoire, who was the flower girl.

The guests fell silent and turned in their seats as music began, and little Victoire stepped into the tent, adorable with her white dress and strawberry blond curls, to a collective "awwww." Apparently Gabrielle's orders had not been quite specific enough, because it had to be said Victoire didn't so much scatter rose petals as much as fling them with a great deal of force and enthusiasm, but she looked so pleased with herself that it was impossible not to smile at her. While Fleur sighed, Bill was shaking with silent laughter.

Teddy followed her, taking exaggerated care to not drop the rings. His cheeks burned at all the people watching him, but he grinned when he got a wink and a discreet thumbs-up from Harry, standing up at the front with Ron Weasley at his side.

He was followed by Charlie Weasley escorting Molly, and then Hermione Weasley (nee Granger), who was always surprisingly pretty when she took the effort, and Luna Scamander (nee Lovegood) looking vaguely distracted, but then it seemed she always did.

There was a restless rustle of dress robes and squeaking of chairs as the music swelled and guests rose, and Arthur Weasley and Ginny appeared. Arthur was beaming, and Ginny, who had always been a pretty girl, was radiant. Because Harry was so dedicated to being Teddy's godfather, to being there for him, I had been able to watch him, and to watch him with Ginny Weasley, and I could not deny I had come to like her a great deal. She was a combination of her mother's warm, no-nonsense pragmatism and her father's unselfconscious friendliness, and it took quite a woman to put up with all the complications that came with loving someone as famous as Harry Potter.

And as Ginny and her father made their way down the aisle, one could not help but look at Harry Potter, because of the way he saw nothing but Ginny. Harry Potter had surprised me. The first time I met him had been brief, and Ted and I had been so worried about Dora we hardly took any notice of him. After the war, after the funerals and the celebrations, he had shown up on my doorstep, and with halting awkwardness told me that Sirius had been his godfather (which I knew, Sirius had been so proud to be named Harry's godfather he'd told strangers on the street) and what that had meant to him, even in the short time they'd had. He told me, with frank emotion surprising for a man his age, that though he was young, he wanted to be a part of Teddy's life.

And despite the demands of Auror training and a girlfriend and a social life and the inevitable fame of being the boy who lived, he had kept that promise, coming by weekends and evenings to play with Teddy, eventually sometimes taking him to the Weasley's or his own flat, and I gradually grew comfortable with it. And as Teddy grew into a boy who had his own opinions, it was clear he adored his godfather. I had thought I would be jealous, guarding Dora's baby, but Harry had impressed me.

And I closed my eyes for just a second at the memory of the traditional words of the wedding ceremony in our world. I heard the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt- as the Minister of Magic he was empowered to perform the ceremony, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix he cared about the people being married, and his voice rang through the tent.

"Do you, Harry James, take Ginevra Molly…"

Molly Weasley was sobbing quietly into a lace handkerchief. Though I frequently had little patience for Molly's displays of emotion, this time I couldn't blame her, her only daughter's wedding, and it felt so terribly _right_. I had not cried at Nymphadora's wedding…I wanted so much for her to be happy, and I had not been sure that Lupin would make her happy, he'd hurt her so much before.

But she had loved him, and they had both loved Teddy, and that was what I had to pass on to him.

"…then I declare you bonded for life…"

* * *

"You were at the Potters' wedding, weren't you? James and Lily Potter's?"

Molly's voice surprised me. As the reception was just getting underway, I would have expected her to be fussing or adjusting or organizing.

"Yes…" I said, a little taken aback. Ted and I had hardly known Lily- though our school years had intersected by only one year, a younger child in a different house would have hardly merited notice. But Sirius had been James's best friend, and so we'd seen a fair amount of him, especially after Sirius ran away and James was, essentially, his family. "We weren't sure if we should, it was dangerous, given who they were, but Sirius and James in one place, with cake? It was like Dora's holy trinity at that age."

Molly smiled. "I didn't know James and Lily all that well, but we were there…my brothers…"

Ted and I had stayed on the edges the first time.

When Edgar Bones had first told us about The Order of The Phoenix, we had been so young, just barely married, settling into a new life. We knew the war was raging, but we had grown up with the war in the background, and while we had always known it would be our fight when we got old enough, we wanted just a little longer in a world that belonged just to us. Still, there was no ignoring what had been going on in those days- the Ministry in disarray, everyone living in fear, never knowing who to trust. I had resented it a little then- I was thirteen the first time I saw the man who called himself Lord Voldemort, fourteen when I saw my Uncle Orion shake his hand in the shadows of his study, choosing for all of us. This was my parents' war, my sister's war. I just wanted Ted, and the baby…a life of my own choosing.

I was four months pregnant then, when Edgar came to us. Already afraid of bringing a baby into the uncertain world, we didn't want to put ourselves in more danger, risk leaving our baby alone, and yet we couldn't say no, not when everyone else we knew was taking the same risk. Still, we avoided the worst of it, stayed out of battles. We always knew that we were in more danger than most, because between Bellatrix and I it wasn't just the abstract battle of good vs. evil, of revolution vs. status quo, it was all too personal.

We could have been more involved, could have thrown ourselves recklessly into the fight like Sirius, like the Potters, like Frank and Alice, who had rushed into the war full of idealism, thinking they were saving the world. They had saved the world, and died doing it. Ted and I had done what we could from the sidelines, but instead protected Dora. I knew it was selfish, to put our own happiness and our own child above the greater good, but I found when it came to Nymphadora I didn't care.

Molly and Arthur had five children by that time. Like us, they had done what they could for the Order while staying away from the front lines, but I sometimes forgot who Molly Weasley had been before she married. The Prewetts were an old family- Molly's blood was as pure as mine, and we had both become blood traitors. Her brothers, though older than me, I remembered from my early years at Hogwarts…more golden Gryffindor boys.

"I was just thinking of them today, James and Lily...and...all the others," she said with a shrug, watching Harry and Ginny, being congratulated from all sides, patiently accepting handshakes and hugs, smiling.

Though it wasn't really in my nature (or upbringing), I placed a hand on her arm for just a second. "They'd be proud of him."

* * *

"It's just this sort of shooting pain, you see…"

As soon as the reception was in full swing, I was cornered by Mafalda Hopkirk. She came into St. Mungo's every week or so with various afflictions that were, as far as any of the Healers could tell, entirely the product of her own imagination. Normally, I could pass her off on one of the trainees. At the wedding reception I had no such escape, but given that she donated a great deal of her modest Ministry pension to St. Mungo's, it wouldn't do to be rude to her.

"Mrs. Tonks," a welcome voice said from behind me, and then with exaggerated apology, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, don't let me interrupt, I'll just-"

"Oh...ohh…oh of course not, Minister, please!" Mafalda stammered, waving a hand vaguely and backing away. "No interruption at all, of course!"

I turned gratefully to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who winked at me.

"Thank you," I murmured, as soon as Mafalda was a safe distance away. "She's a nice woman, but…"

"One of the benefits of my position is that people will generally assume what I want to say is more important than their conversation, even when that's entirely untrue," he said, leading me to one of the small tables. I automatically glanced around for Teddy, but found him being forced to pose for photos with Victoire and little Molly Weasley, the only daughter of Percy. I didn't know Percy well, he was the one of the Weasley boys Dora had never really taken to, but the younger Molly and Victoire seemed to get along.

"Teddy acquitted himself very well," Kingsley said, following the direction of my gaze.

"Anything to impress Gabrielle Delacour."

"Is that it? The boy has good taste." He smiled at Teddy, who was scowling, and then at Harry and Ginny, both beaming despite being photographed yet again. "There was a time I never thought I'd live to see Harry Potter married," he said, paused a moment, then added, "There was a time I never thought Harry Potter would live to be married."

Kingsley is not a man I would have expected to be a natural politician- he had been fairly keen to challenge authority when the chance came up, and he still poked dry fun at his position, never taking himself too seriously. He had been thrown into it, as so many people were thrown into a new role post-war. He was an obvious choice in the immediate chaos following the war- people found him reassuring, they trusted him, he had been an Auror, and had been loyal to the resistance and Harry Potter even when it had seemed hopeless. After the war, he had been a voice of reason- seen to the heroes buried with honor, those who had chosen the wrong side (my sister among them) buried quietly, without ceremony, but without vengeance. Then he turned the public's attention to the long hard task of rebuilding- buildings and physical structures of course, but also and perhaps more importantly, trust in wizarding society and government.

He never shied away from mentioning the times most people never spoke of- the darkest days of the war. The last few months, Voldemort with absolute power, Harry Potter vanished, and only a few clinging to hope that he was still alive. Dora and Remus had always believed he was. I had lost any hope after Ted died, thinking no seventeen-year-old boy could save us, no matter how "chosen" he might be. I had kept up appearances for Dora as best I could, but I think she saw through it.

Kingsley pulled me from those thoughts, which were somewhat out of place in the celebration.

"I was not only rescuing you to display my chivalry," he said conversationally as we sat. "I do need to speak to you Andromeda, but this is not the time or place. Perhaps I could come by St. Mungo's on Monday morning?"

"Of course," I said, surprised and curious and a little worried, though he didn't speak as though there was any urgency. "I expect to be there by nine."

"Half-past ten then, as I know you'll have patients to attend to first thing."

"Of course."

* * *

Kingsley arrived outside my office at St. Mungo's at half past ten sharp, with a security detail of two Aurors.

"Wait out here, please," he instructed them, and then at their aghast looks added dryly, "I don't expect any threat of assassination from Mrs. Tonks."

"I expect you could take me," I added.

The Aurors still looked as though this was highly unusual and in their opinion, unacceptable, but fell back. He closed the door softly behind him, added a muffling spell, and then cast a spell checking my office for bugs.

As though this was not even remotely unusual, as the spell swirled around the room, he said "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Andromeda."

"_My_ taking the time? Yes, I suppose as Minister of Magic you've nothing but free time."

He smirked as the spell finished its search of the room, finding nothing.

"I didn't think so, but you'd be amazed the strange places we find things listening, best to be careful," he explained, settling himself into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. "I didn't really think this was appropriate conversation for a wedding party."

"What's wrong?"

"I need your help. The Ministry needs your help," he said, and then let that surprising statement hang in the air for a few moments. "Voldemort's more devoted supporters didn't all have a sudden change of heart when he was defeated, they simply lost a leader. _Apres_ _moi, le deluge_, Andy. We've had more than a few aspiring new dark lords in the last five years."

"Of course, there will always be pureblood lunatics, but if they're stopped before they gain power…"

"That's the idea, but easier said than done. How well do you remember your History of Magic classes?"

"I didn't remember my History of Magic classes when I was taking them, much less now."

"I would guess you took an O in it, but nonetheless, a lot of those who followed Grindelwald, after Dumbledore defeated him, fled to avoid Azkaban…and really, the Ministry didn't bother to pursue them or even really take note where they went. 'Out of sight, out of mind' applied, apparently. But they didn't change what they believed about pureblood superiority, and they didn't go away. The French Ministry is concerned. They feel they've got new age Death Eaters on their hands, and they're likely right. And those new age Death Eaters seem to have found a leader."

"Well, it sounds like the French Ministry have their eye on them, and it's their problem, right?"

"You know that Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were released from Azkaban? They're mad, but essentially, we couldn't hold them any longer."

"Yes, I had a letter from the Ministry," I said, with a shrug. "A sort of "we're releasing your insane family from prison" kind of form letter. I wasn't too alarmed. The thing you need to understand about the Lestrange boys, Rodolphus isn't stupid, or weak, but he's inherently lazy. I doubt he'll do much without Bella pushing him. They'll probably leave the country, they still have relations in France. And, while I know I shouldn't disclose any illegal spells to the Minister of Magic…my home is well protected.

Kingsley looked me straight in the eye. "I'm not worried about your immediate safety, but you're right about them heading to France. In fact, we think they might be seeking out this new aspiring dark wizard. And he has some fairly ardent supporters among the Rosiers in France."

I sighed. "Lovely, sounds like a family reunion. I can understand why you'd ask me, but if you're looking for information on people who run in dark magic circles… here's a phrase I never thought I'd say- Lucius Malfoy might be more useful."

He laughed. "I can't really think of any context in which that statement would hold true, but I wasn't assuming you're terribly connected with the dark arts world- I know you're not. The thing is Andy, you watched it happen last time, Voldemort's rise to power."

"I don't understand."

"No, I'm not being clear," he admitted, pausing for a moment and looking beyond me, where the window looked out on a small grassy courtyard where recovering patients could get some fresh air. It was charmed to be always sunny and warm.

"Andy, you've been there, you know the players, you know what and who to look for, and…I'm going to guess you know some spells that we're not necessarily 'officially' aware of."

He was still looking out the window, not meeting my eyes, and so I stood and moved to block the window, forcing him to actually look at me.

"I don't particularly like what you're suggesting, and I won't go back into that world. They know who I am. I'm a blood-traitor Kingsley, and worse yet because I had a child. Most of them would kill me on sight and consider it a job well done."

"I'm not going to put you in danger. I just need information, you're the only person I know who –"

"You have no idea what I went through to get out of that world…"

"I've got a feeling about this…it's happening again. Last time we just watched it happen, watched while they gained power and support until it was too late. We have to know what's going on, _now_…"

As Minister of Magic, he was always calm, always spoke gently and confidently, so the urgency in his voice was surprising and unsettling, but not enough for me to get past the complete insanity of what he was thinking.

"No. I can't believe you would even ask…"

"That's why you should understand how serious this is. I _wouldn't_ ask if I didn't think there was a danger to this world, to this peace…"

"Don't you _dare_ suggest I haven't sacrificed enough for this world and this peace!"

"There is Teddy…do you want him to grow up like you did, and like Nymphadora did, with the threat of war hanging over him?"

"Yes, there is Teddy. His parents left him to go save the world. _And how has that worked out for him_?"

He had risen too, and spoke nothing like the warm, genial Minister of Magic I had gotten used to.

"You're angry that Nymphadora left Teddy for the Battle of Hogwarts. You can't forgive her for leaving him and going to Remus, and that's something that _you_ need to deal with, Andromeda. That's not what this is about."

I wanted to curse him, I nearly did, curses I had learned from Bella but never used, never even wanted to use, the kind of things that usually made me recoil...I barely stopped myself.

" You need to leave."

"Andy-"

"Now."

He didn't move for a second, as though trying to judge if I meant it, and then said quietly "I'll be in touch," and strode out.


	2. The Other Black Girl

_As promised, updates are coming, if slowly. Thanks to y'all who favorited!_

_It looks like I already gacked up the timeline. As someone pointed out, if Teddy is 6, shouldn't Harry and Ginny have had a baby yet? Fair point, but I assumed in the epilogue Teddy was graduated, and had come to see Victoire off to her 7th year, so in my head Teddy was 19ish, and James the Younger was 12, so 7 years between them…i.e. Ginny's knocked up but they haven't told anyone yet._

_Or, I'm rubbish at timelines, and JKR cannot expect me to respect hers when she has all the men in the Black family fathering babies at 13._

**Chapter 2- The Other Black Girl**

I could not have been a very pleasant person to work with the rest of that day, but I had calmed down by the time I collected Teddy that afternoon.

The people who minded him were thrown together somewhat haphazardly. Immediately after the war, I had to work. There was a great need for Healers, especially those who had seen the Dark Arts, who knew the effects of Imperius, who knew what a straight week of Cruciatus could do to a person, who had seen even darker things, like the almost fatal opal necklace Katie Bell had encountered, or some of the nastier things my sister had experimented with.

Immediately after the war, my experience couldn't be spared.

Beyond that, I had eventually realized I needed my work, too. At first, it was because I needed people who knew me as a Healer only, those who wouldn't give me that concerned, pitying look when I walked in a room. I always had worked, even when Dora was young, and we'd always managed to make it. As time passed and there was no longer a desperate need to heal those suffering from war injuries (though they lingered, in the permanent spell damage ward, too many of them), I had gone to part time. Teddy needed my time as well.

There was no shortage of volunteers for babysitting. Harry was always willing to mind him, and Ginny began to offer on her own, in between her wild schedule of quidditch practices. Molly was always happy to have children around, and Dora's friends from Hogwarts, many starting their own families, fell over themselves to help out with her son.

And still, in many ways, Teddy was a very isolated child. It wasn't that he wasn't loved. Everyone went out of their way to see that Teddy never lacked for love and attention. But he rarely played with children his own age, simply because there _were_ no children his own age. Few children were born in the darkest part of the war, and of those who were, fewer had survived- there had been no mercy for children, even infants. Teddy had been spared only because he was with me, and I was under Bella's protection.

Victoire was one of the closest to him in age, and Fleur was most often the one to mind him, with two small children of her own. But even Victoire was still almost two years younger, and, he had begun to notice with some disdain, a _girl_. There would eventually be other children in the Weasley clan, that was a given, they were Weasleys after all, but Teddy would still be the oldest, and somewhat apart from them.

I thought about sending him to a muggle primary school. It was something Ted had always wanted for Dora, it was what he thought of as a "normal" childhood, but it would never have worked. When little children said too much to muggles about the magical world, it could be generally explained away with "such a wild imagination" but Dora was every bit as stubborn as Ted. If another child denied dragons existed, or photographs could move, or that she could spontaneously turn her hair pink, she would be determined to prove it. In the middle of a war, we hardly needed that kind of attention, so until she was old enough for Hogwarts, Dora learned the basics like most magical children, from Ted and I, or from tutors.

Teddy, on the other hand, would do everything to fit in, and yet I wondered if that wouldn't make things worse. The last thing Teddy needed was another group that made him feel different.

When I arrived at Shell Cottage that evening, he and Victoire seemed to be getting along, sitting at the kitchen table with crayons scattered between them.

"Look Gran!" Teddy held his up one of his already-finished creations.

"Very nice, love."

"Can you tell what it is?" he pressed.

I couldn't necessarily tell from the picture, but anyone who'd listened to him over the past few weeks could guess. "It's a kneazle."

He beamed. "Gabrielle thought it was an Aethonon," he confided.

"Well, perhaps they look different in France," I said. He didn't look convinced, but seemed to consider it. "Let's get going. Thanks Fleur."

She gave us a distracted smile from where she was trying to feed Dominique, who apparently objected. "See you Saturday, Andromeda. Bye Teddy."

"Bye, Teddy," said Victoire, not looking up from her own creative endeavors.

"Granny, _please_ may I get a kneazle?" he took up the subject again as we flooed home. "I'd take care of it, I'd feed it every single day, and they're very smart, you know. Did you know that Hermione had a cat that was a half-kneazle, she told me, only she didn't know then, and do you know what it-"

He cut off when we emerged from the kitchen fire, because we weren't alone. Teddy is not shy exactly, but he likes to watch people and take their measure before he interacts, and he simply had not been around Narcissa enough to feel comfortable with her. And he wasn't stupid, he could sense I was not entirely comfortable around her either. To her credit, she had done her best to be nice to him.

In fact, she had sincerely made an effort to change a lot of things, but that evening, exhausted and on edge from the day, I really just wanted a quiet evening alone. In the five years since the war, it was only really in the last six months I had started to see Narcissa again. In a way, I had missed her, but she was not the girl I remembered anymore, and getting to know the woman Narcissa had become wasn't easy. For so long she had remained the same in my mind, eternally sixteen, I had not taken into account that time and marriage and war and motherhood had changed her as well. There were glimmers of the sister I had known- the surprising insights that came out of nowhere, the talent for mimicry that was sometimes cruelly accurate- but she was a different person. I suppose we both were.

I would never completely forgive her for coming through the war with her husband and son alive and well. But we were the only ones left. We shared a history, and a childhood, and no one else _knew_ like she did, both the good and the bad.

"Hello Teddy," she said, carefully pleasant. Teddy was young, but perceptive, and he hated being patronized. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, Ma'am," he replied. Shy or not, I'd taught him good manners. "Gran, may I go play outside?"

"Until it gets dark, but stay in the yard where I can see you." He gave Narcissa a tentative smile- I think he realized she was, in her way, trying to be nice. As soon as he was gone I spoke, "Cissy, it's not that I mind you stopping by, but I've had a really…strange day, and-"

"Oh, don't worry," she waved a hand. "I won't stay long. I just came by here because I wanted to get out of the house. Lucius and Draco are at it again."

Sometimes with Narcissa, it was easier to let her complain and get it out of her system. "Over what?"

"What else? The Girl."

"The Girl" was Astoria Greengrass. She was a nice girl, from a family we knew of. Draco liked her, and I think Narcissa liked her as well. It was, not surprisingly, Lucius who objected to her. The Greengrass family, he insisted, was not old enough, not rich enough, and not pure enough. Stuck in another time, before the war, when purity of blood had mattered, Lucius thought of Draco as the heir of two great houses, the last truly pureblood scion of the Malfoys and the Blacks. As far as he was concerned, few women were worthy to carry on that line, and Astoria Greengrass was not among them.

"Draco is going to have to stand up to Lucius, eventually," was all I had to say on the subject. It was nothing Narcissa had not figured out herself, but she needed to talk through it. That was something else that had changed in Narcissa…she used to be aloof, removed, deigning to talk only to certain people. Now, she talked sometimes as though she just wanted to fill up silence. I could understand that, in a way. Too much silence could fill up with voices you didn't really want to think about.

"Yes, I know…" she said vaguely. It was nothing we hadn't talked about before, and I wondered what was really on her mind. "How was the Potter wedding?"

"Nice." I knew, mostly from offhand comments among Harry's friends, that there was quite a history between Draco and Harry, so I assumed she was asking just out of politeness, and not any particular interest. Although, given something Harry had told me about that night at the Battle of Hogwarts, I wondered…

"Did you hear Rodolphus and Rabastan were released from Azkaban?" she said abruptly.

There it was, and my stomach twisted nervously. Not because I was afraid of the Lestranges, but because of the conversation I'd had that morning.

"Yes, I heard. I had a letter from the Ministry."

"Me too," she was looking beyond me, that kind of faraway looking back at the past. "Rodolphus never liked me."

"Rodolphus liked very few people."

"He respected you."

"I could do without the respect of Rodolphus Lestrange."

Her eyes snapped back to me. "You sounded so much like Bella just there."

"Don't say that, Cissy."

A silence hung between us for a moment. Sometimes, I felt natural with her, it felt like we could go back to being…if not the same, then at least close. At other times, everything still hung between us. We were better, we were talking, but we had a long way to go.

"I should get going," she said briskly. "Teddy will want dinner, and I expect Draco and Lucius have shouted themselves out by now. Thanks, Andy, for…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but I knew anyway. She brushed a kiss over my cheek, and stepped into the fire back to Malfoy Manor. I paused a moment while the spells I had set going prepared dinner, leaning against the counter and trying to collect my thoughts. It was hardly unusual for people to tell me I looked like Bellatrix, though they rarely said it as bluntly as Narcissa had. I was used to people doing double takes, used to them backing away for a moment before they realized that I wasn't Bella, but "the other Black girl."

"Gran? Is it almost dinner?" Teddy was sticking his head in the door hopefully, and it snapped me out of my distraction.

"Almost. Why don't you run upstairs and wash up, and then I think dinner will be ready."

* * *

"…and so Nellie …" I trailed off gently. Teddy looked asleep, but it was not unusual he'd pop awake and accuse me of not finishing the story. Since we had no stories in his considerable library about kneazles, his current favorite topic, he had settled for one among the "Nellie the Niffler" series. They had not only books about the adventures of Nellie and her friends, but figures and stuffed toys and even animated films.

This time, he remained asleep, breathing slow and even. I extricated myself carefully and smoothed back turquoise hair before kissing his forehead. His hair color when he didn't change it at all was a medium brown, like Dora's. But her default color, even as a baby, had been the pink, and it seemed Teddy's was turquoise…it was what he went back to when he was relaxed.

As I slipped out of his room and closed the door softly, I felt a shiver that someone was near the house. Even though the war was over, I was careful about security. A series of spells, mostly legal, some not, alerted me when someone was coming near us. The little shudder I felt was just a vague hint someone was there, not that they meant any harm.

Predictably, a moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. I suppose I knew who it was before I opened the door. I wasn't surprised to find Kingsley, without the security detail.

"I owe you an apology."

It was not going to be that easy. The things he had said, about Dora, I hadn't even allowed myself to think about. I crossed my arms.

"Andromeda, I'm sorry. I _was_ out of line. I was…frustrated and worried. I value your friendship too much to lose it over this."

"If you _ever_ say something like that again…"

"I understand."

I stepped back to let him in, and even though I was tired and still vaguely angry at him, some sort of etiquette gene instilled in early childhood kicked in.

"Can I offer you something? Tea? Actually no, forget that, I need a proper drink."

"That sounds more like what I need as well."

"Wine? It's too late for whiskey, I have to be at work at nine."

He chuckled. "Nine? I remember going to work at nine. Those were good days."

I passed him a glass of wine, and sat down across the table from him. "Tell me."

He looked surprised, "What?"

"This supposed dark wizard cult in France. You said yourself, Kingsley- _après moi, le deluge_. So why is this group in France so much more worrying than a dozen other hopeful dark lords over the last five years? After all, you're taking it on even though it ought to be the French Ministry's problem."

He studied me for a long, silent moment, and then removed a photo from the breast pocket of his robes and slid it across the table.

For a moment I thought it was a picture of me, but when I looked more closely the woman was slightly older than me, her hair was a shade darker, her eyes more blue than gray. And despite the familiarity of it being almost-me, I didn't know her, and that surprised me. Yes, the Black family was old…over a thousand years old, but so obsessed with purity of blood that they had hardly spread around the world, instead marrying within the same small circle of European pureblood families. Certainly there were relatives I didn't know, especially those who had gotten themselves erased from our history by rebelling. Yet this woman was not a shadowy figure from hundreds of years ago, she was wearing modern robes, so she must be close to my age, and so it seemed odd I had never met her.

"Well, I can see why you're asking me in particular, she's clearly a Black."

"Actually, we know who she is…I just wanted to know if you'd ever encountered her," Kingsley said.

"No, not that I remember. Who is she?"

"She's used various aliases we know about, probably more we don't know about, but her real name is Aquila Black."

I sighed. Apparently the celestial naming tradition had endured as well. Not that a woman who named her daughter Nymphadora had any room to criticize. "How did I never know about her?" I wondered, more to myself than Kingsley. "Is she a blood-traitor?"

"Probably because she's never been to England," Kingsley answered. "She's certainly not a blood traitor…very much for the pureblood cause, in fact. She lives in Argentina…mostly. Her parents fled there after Grindelwald was defeated…they had been big supporters of his agenda, the "greater good" and all, and they'd taken it on themselves to...start the purification. They certainly would have ended up in Azkaban. They were responsible for some...ugly things...every bit as ugly as we saw in the war with Voldemort. She was born and raised there, but raised in the "Toujours Pur" spirit nonetheless. And she is, by all accounts, even more fanatic than they were."

"Charming. The Black family: bringing hate and prejudice to other nations."

"She's got quite a following in South America...and even more fled there after Voldemort's first downfall twenty years ago. We've kept an eye on her because she had British connections, but were basically just glad she wasn't our problem."

"I take your past tense to mean she's your problem now."

He nodded. "We caught her sneaking into the country four days ago. The good news is that we caught her...the bad news is, as you say, she's our problem now, and we'd very much like to know why."

I shrugged a bit helplessly. "I can't tell you why. Obviously I didn't even know who she was."

He nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. "If you didn't know her, we can assume she doesn't know you. Maybe she'll talk to family."

"Fam- no. No way. If she's looked at a family tree at all, she'll know exactly who I am...Cissy and I are the only ones in this generation who survived. There's no way she'll talk to me. If she's as fanatic as you say, she'll hate me."

He sighed. "She's not saying a thing, Andy. I'm running out of ideas. I don't want to resort to…less civilized methods of questioning, but the fact that she's showing up now, at the same time this trouble in France is starting…I'm worried. We need to know why she's here."

I sighed, and shrugged. "I can try, but I think you'll be disappointed."

"That's all I'm asking."

"I'm not free tomorrow, but I can come by on Wednesday morning."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Darling, you've a bit of something on your trousers that I'm not entirely sure isn't still alive."

Cailean Dresden started at the sound of my voice, nearly dropping the stack of parchment he held, and then carefully placed it on another five-inch high stack of parchment littering his workspace amongst bubbling cauldrons.

"Andy! Is it noon already? Damn, I'd lost track entirely. Did you just walk in? So much for a secure lab," he muttered, grabbing a tissue and scrubbing at the potentially alive stain on his trousers.

Cailean had been a few years behind me at Hogwarts, a teenage Romeo, and the bane of my prefect years. He had also been a surprisingly discreet, if reluctant, witness to my developing relationship with Ted, and what I had not realized that the time, quite a hand with potions.

He was a Slytherin, and a pureblood, and he knew what was expected from him. So the minute he finished Hogwarts, he took off for the United States, wanting nothing to do with Voldemort and his cohorts. He had eventually married an American witch, who he eventually divorced amicably. He had a seventeen-year-old daughter in her last year at an outstanding American magic school, and he had recently come back to the UK.

I'd run into him in Diagon Alley shortly after he'd returned to the UK. We understood each other, knew each other, and as much as anyone from Slytherin can, trusted each other. We had settled into a comfortable friendship, and now we had lunch every few weeks.

He was working in a Ministry research lab…he had little regard for the Ministry, but so long as they let him research the things he was interested in, he had no issue with them.

Having yelled at an intern to make himself feel better about security, we went on to a trendy Diagon Alley café for lunch. I had found that I genuinely enjoyed his company, for the childhood charm and charisma he had been known for had been tempered and somewhat subdued by life, but it still existed…Cailean had been a charming boy, and could be a charming man. In some ways he reminded me of Sirius.

Yet it seemed I had caught him on a bad day, and after a number of monosyllabic responses to small talk, I came to the point.

"You went to South America for a time after you left England, didn't you?

"You mean after I dishonoured my ancestors, betrayed my blood, and destroyed my father's soul like the pathetic little coward I am?" He said, without expression.

"Ah, you've seen your mother recently?" I replied.

He gave me a smile…cynical, but a smile nonetheless. "Right you are, Andy, had dinner with her yesterday. Not sure why I do it, but…"

"Nevermind, don't think of it. Tell me this, how is Natasha? She'll finish her American school this year, won't she? So they must be having them think about what they'll pursue, like they did us…"

It worked, he launched into a proud monologue about her- she was top of her class, she was thinking of pursuing magical law and looking at several excellent programmes in the United States, though he was encouraging her to consider programmes in the UK as well. She had a boyfriend who was, in his opinion, useless. I listened, but didn't say much beyond supportive noises. My feelings about daughters and the men they choose to love were more complicated than could be sorted out over lunch.

Done with his rant about the boyfriend, he suddenly switched gears, "Sorry, Andy, were you asking something about South America?"

"Did you ever encounter a woman named Aquila Black? She's from Argentina?"

He was silent a moment, sipped his wine, and then raised an eyebrow.

"In proper Slytherin fashion, I will answer your question with a question. Why do you ask?"

"Family entanglements, I suppose."

"Family or not…it's a distant connection…you don't want to tangle with her, Andy."

"Speaking from experience?"

"More like observation…" he glanced around, but no one was paying attention to us. Still, he cast a spell to distract unwanted listeners. Not serious magic, just a gentle suggestion to anyone who started to listen that our conversation was mind-numbingly boring. "When I first got to South America, I had just gotten out of school, and, well, you know how grim things were here. I partied- a lot. I drank a lot, experimented with…various substances. There were women- all in an attempt to get over you, of course…" He winked and I saw the teenage rogue he'd been, and rolled my eyes, and he went on. "Pursuing all that, I fell in with a young, pureblood set who were rich and simple…not particularly militant, but Aquila Black- he was using an alias at the time but everyone knew who she was- kept an eye out. Somehow it got back to her who I was, and where I was from, and the sympathies my parents had, and she thought I might be the sort to join up."

He paused while the waiter took our order, and then as soon as he had gone, went on. "I only met with her once, and made it very clear that I had left England to get away from politics. She seemed to take me at my word, she never bothered me again. And I didn't stay in South America all that long."

"What was she like?"

He paused for a long moment, and then said, gently, "Bellatrix. She was like Bellatrix. So, so young, and so, so angry. Beautiful. Enchanting. Could have done great things, but raised with too much hate."

I nodded. I didn't need any further explanation, I knew exactly what he meant.


End file.
